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Angling appeals to me because of the nuances that factor into success—selection of baits, hand movements, reeling speed, and the all important placement of the cast lure. Many freshwater predatory fishes seem to be more eager to bite an artificial bait if they actually see it hit the water (whether it be a top-water or a subsurface lure). I find that the majority of hard hits occur just after the lure plunges into the water, so skillful placement is key. After that, it’s all about convincing movement. You don’t want the fish to “investigate a possibility;” you want it to “know!” that your lure is food. If you can excite a storm of firing in the feeding circuits of a fish’s brain, you will catch it.
On our way to a downstream fishing hole we hiked through mature deciduous woodlands with a heavy canopy and short understory vegetation. Ferns and mosses seemed to be the dominant ground cover, but we didn’t stop to identify plants. Ron is a studious outdoorsman and certainly has the inclination to scrutinize—as do I—but our sites were set on other prizes.
 When we got to the lower falls there was a lot of photo shooting. A spectacular rock face was perched high above the catchment pool, carved out, no doubt, by millions of years of relentless water action—a feast for the eyes and brain. Mist from the towering falls sustained a wholly different flora than what we had emerged from. Thick stands of purple great lobelia (Lobelia siphilitica) were accented by thickets of orange spotted touch-me-not (Impatiens capensis) in perfect color harmony. I stopped for long enough to snap a few pictures of these mist-loving flowers, but then I was off to catch some fish. Success was immediate, if not altogether gratifying. My first catch was a little bluegill, only about twice as big as the minnow wiggler that I used to catch it. That same outcome was repeated over and over.
The kids were drawn to the water and, despite admonitions from practical adults, it wasn’t long before all three of them were wearing wet sneakers. Blaizon was the first one in. He inherited his exterior from his mother, but he is built on my chassis—especially when it comes to psychodynamics. Blaizon is an explorer through and through. Before I knew it, he was ankle-deep in the stream looking for snails, then knee deep, then waist deep, then—yes, then he was frolicking shirtless in the stream. All three of the kids ended up at least waist deep in water, but there were no complaints about discomfort, not even on the long rainy trek back to the car.
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I'm tickled that kids got so into the moment. I might even have to do some winter seining just to keep up
Think of the potential joy we steal from kids when we don't give them opportunities to get dirty on their own volition. This MudMomma is smilin'....
We should find a way to connect with Richard Louv's Last Child in the Woods. You know he's from Olathe? Weird how things work out sometimes....
Last Child in the Woods: Saving our Children from Nature Deficit Disorder has spurred a national dialogue among educators, health professionals, parents, developers and conservationists. This is a book that will change the way you think about your future and the future of your children. http://richardlouv.com/last-child-woods